Twentysomething
by DeepSixing
Summary: Who got to him first, Voldemort or Dumbledore? Snape's first year as a professor at Hogwarts seems to have nothing to do with teaching. Fairly canon, set the year before Voldemort kills James and Lily and falls from power.
1. Believe in Something

**ONE**

Hogsmeade was something of a ghost town in the summer months. People still wandered in and out of the store fronts, but the activity was dulled—the patrons were older, sadder, and bored. Severus was bored, too.

He stared out the window of the Hog's Head at a graying man in an apron sweeping the front stoop of the potions shop across the street. The man stopped a moment and leaned on the broom handle, wiping his forehead and sighing. Severus wondered why he bothered sweeping at all—there were no folks around here worth trying to impress.

Except Dumbledore, he supposed. Dumbledore regarded Severus over his half-moon spectacles in his usual way. Severus was supposed to be contemplating why he wanted to be a professor at Hogwarts, but instead he was watching the old man with the broom return to his sweeping.

"Severus," Dumbledore said carefully, after too much silence had passed. "You do _want_ to be a professor here, I presume?"

"Yes, sir."

"You have had very little to say since this interview started," Dumbledore said, raising his eyebrows. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, sir," Severus said slowly, and paused with a slight nervous twitch. _That timid and awkward boy of his youth would never quite grow out of him, would it?_ "I just—well, I thought my results on the written exam would speak more definitively to my abilities."

"Oh, and they do," Dumbledore said with a reassuring smile. "But you must know there's more to teaching than just your abilities. How well you work with others is one example. Discipline is another."

"I know how to discipline," Severus sneered.

A look of recollection passed across Dumbledore's face, and as it softened, Severus knew what he was remembering. All the times Dumbledore had to fend the bastards off of him on the grounds. The times Dumbledore caught him hiding in the toilets for hours on end out of fear. Showing up to class late to avoid torment in the crowded halls. He remembered. It wasn't long ago.

"I am sure you do," Dumbledore said finally.

"So then?" He was growing anxious. Severus learned forward and placed two fingers on his temple. "Do I have the job?"

Dumbledore clasped his hands together. "Well," he began, "I do think—" But then he stopped and stiffened.

Severus went pale. Shooting pain. In his left arm. It was unbearable, but he was trying with all of his might not to react, pressing his fingers more firmly into his head. With a sinking feeling he knew, though, that it was too late. The twisting and curling of the Dark Mark on his arm was peeking out above his sleeve, and Dumbledore's eyes were fixed on it.

"Not you, Severus?" Dumbledore looked at him with pity more than anything else.

Out of sheer fear and irrationality, Severus stood, his chair sliding away with a harsh screech. But before he could even raise his wand, it was out of his hand and across the room.

Dumbledore was standing now, too, with his wand casually out in front of him, as though Severus was no more of a threat than a practice dummy. The warmth in his eyes was gone, and replaced with something sad, but hard. Severus stood before him, feeling naked without his wand, his arm still burning and writhing. He clutched it, needing something to hold.

"When did you become a Death Eater?" Dumbledore asked, in a tone that sounded as casual as if he had said, "When did you get that new haircut?"

Severus shook his head, too ashamed to look directly at him. He felt like a naughty child caught by his parents for doing something stupid. "Not long ago." He twitched and held his arm tighter.

"Why?"

Severus' lip curled. "I saw…someone. And they hurt me. Deeply." Severus knew his reasons for joining the Dark Lord's forces were nothing more than an immature coward's rash decision. But he was a man that had nothing, stood for nothing, and wanted nothing. Except one thing, which would never be his. "Professor, please." Severus lifted his gaze to meet Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes, begging him to see that he would do anything to stay alive. He was desperate. Lost, and desperate.

His mind snapped back abruptly to the pain in his arm. He had to go to him, to the Dark Lord. He wouldn't be able to stay here much longer. "This is only the second time my arm—it's…" The pain was getting worse and he was having trouble making words. _Twenty years old and still a baby,_ he sneered to himself. _Pull yourself together, Severus. _

As if Dumbledore were, in fact, reading his mind, he said calmly, "I know you must go to him." He paused, eyeing Severus with brief deliberation. "And I will let you."

"Sir?" Severus failed to hide his own surprise, and completely forgot to feel relieved.

"I can only assume Voldemort directed you to apply for this position." Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, and Severus' expression was enough to confirm. Dumbledore took a meditative breath. "For your safety, he must not know that your cover has been blown." He continued to eye Severus carefully. "And for my safety, I must now keep a close eye on you. However, I cannot have you teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said.

Severus couldn't help but interject, "Then how—" Dumbledore raised his hand.

"You will, instead, be the new Potions Master. And Head of Slytherin House." Dumbledore said it so simply, that Severus felt an ominous lurch in his stomach. He could only assume that, since Dumbledore would not be so stupid as to allow a Death Eater free reign of Hogwarts (and the minds of impressionable students), that he must have already constructed a massive plan in his head. Severus hated feeling like a pawn.He watched as Dumbledore gave a gentle flick, and Severus' wand landed into his hand. He walked toward Severus with slow, even steps, and presented the wand to him.

Severus took the wand and immediately felt conflicted. Speaking mostly to himself, he muttered, "Who do I answer to now?"

"I do not know. Only you know that, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "What do you believe in?"

"I believe in nothing," Severus spat.

Dumbledore simply gave a halfhearted shrug. "Then I suppose it does not matter much who you answer to."

Severus raised his wand to disapparate, but Dumbledore interrupted. "I would recommend, Severus," he said, "For your own sake, try to believe in _something_. Anything will do."

To that, Severus could only curl his lip. And then he was gone.


	2. They Have Not Defied Me

**TWO**

It was quiet when he arrived, and everyone was already gathered around a massive oak table. The hall looked like it must have once been the sanctuary of a cathedral. There were tall stained glass windows that left colored footprints of light across the empty floor, and an elaborate chandelier chained to the top of the arched ceiling with hundreds of candles that had since melted down and discolored. In fact, the only thing that was still in good shape inside the hall was the table, stretching maybe a quarter of the length of the place.

"My lord," Severus blurted out, his voice coming out much louder than he'd intended. "I apologize for being late."

Each step he took made a painfully loud _tap!_ that echoed and reverberated in every direction. He could feel the gazes of his fellow Death Eaters scouring his appearance. Voldemort sat at the head of the table and watched him with the greatest intensity of all. His pale skin was stretched taught across his sunken face, with eyes so bloodshot, they seemed to glow bright red in the evening light. His hair was thinning, but still totally black, and had grown just long enough to be tied back at the nape of his neck. It curled softly at the end, like a rabbit's tail. His thin mouth expanded into a completely vapid toothy smile.

"Severus," he huffed, his voice like steam erupting from a kettle. "I do hope your lateness does not mean bad news."

"As discussed, my lord," Severus said, bowing his head and quickly sitting at the farthest end of the table from Voldemort, "I am to be a professor at Hogwarts."

"However…?" Voldemort said, dragging the word out slowly. Severus had never met a man more receptive than Voldemort. Not even Dumbledore. He could still feel Voldemort's eyes prying into him, though he kept his own eyes fixed on the table's twisting wood grains.

"I…was not offered the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Instead I am to be Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House."

Silence. Severus couldn't bring himself to look up. He wondered how many of the people around him were, too, continuing to stare at him. Were they scowling? Was the Dark Lord scowling? Was he smiling? Severus continued to look at the wood grains, following every swirl and line, inspecting every blemish.

Finally, he heard Voldemort sniff. "This will be fine," he said. An inaudible sigh seemed to unwind across the table. More silence. Severus still felt all eyes resting heavily on him. "You have more news, Severus. Do tell."

"Well, I-I'm unsure of its significance," Severus stuttered. In truth, he knew it was significant, but he was afraid. He knew what the information would imply. He fixed his gaze on a particularly dark and solid line of grain.

"Go on," Voldemort drawled. The impatience in his voice made the hair on Severus' arms stand up.

"Dumbledore met with a woman, preceding my interview." The words tumbled out quickly, before Severus could change his mind. "She had a…premonition. A prophecy was made. It was about you, and, a boy—a foe, rather. Something about the one who will defeat you will be born as the seventh month dies. To parents who have thrice defied you." He paused for a brief second and became painfully aware of the sound of his voice, echoing in every direction. "That's—that's all I remember, my lord."

More silence. Severus waited for the inevitable.

"It might not be true," a woman's voice blurted. Severus finally ventured to look up and saw Bellatrix Lestrange looking wide-eyed at the Dark Lord before quickly averting her gaze and bowing her head. "My lord."

"I do not take chances," Voldemort said. "It is nearly the seventh month. Who in the Order is with child?"

"The Longbottoms," Rodolphus Lestrange said firmly. "And they have thrice defied you, as well—"

"_They have not thrice defied me,_" Voldemort hissed. A chill shuddered across the table.

Rodolphus, unlike Bellatrix, did not cower, through he cast his eyes briefly downward. He shook his head and raised his eyebrows innocently. "I meant no offense, my lord. But, three times they have faced you, and three times they have left with their lives. Perhaps the prophecy sees this as defiance."

"Who else," Voldemort said coldly.

"The Potters," Peter Pettigrew said with a nervous twitch. And there was the word Severus had been dreading.

"Find out everything you can on both of them," Voldemort said, his red eyes resting heavily on each figure as he scanned the table. "Infiltrate them. Dumbledore has likely already put them under great protection. But I want to personally dispose of both the Potters and Lestranges within the year. Make it happen." His eyes settled on Severus. "And you," his lips curled into a smile, "Earn Dumbledore's trust. Get yourself into the Order. I intend for you to become one of my most precious assets."

Severus nodded curtly, his throat too dry and closed up to speak. His whole body felt rigid.

"Now leave me, everyone. Except you, Bella." Voldemort gave a wave of his hand, and for some, that was all the encouragement they needed. Before Severus had even lifted his wand, half the attendees had vanished. He was anxious to follow suit quickly.

Though he had no idea where to go next.


	3. Curiosity

The Potters had, in fact, reinforced the property with a number of protection spells and charms. Severus knew this because he experienced the ramifications of each of them individually as he attempted to approach the house. He had undone a few, and circumvented one other, but still, the closest he came was about thirty feet away from their front bay window. And not without a series of painful burns and bruises.

He was standing in the middle of their lawn, but was otherwise safely under the cover of darkness. He remained unafraid of being noticed until a bright light flicked on and the windows flooded him with a yellow glow. He saw Lily some into view. She was looking very pregnant, holding her two hands around her stomach and letting out a heavy sigh as she lowered herself into a chair. James sauntered in behind her, placing a plate of hot food before her, and taking the seat opposite her with his own. He was smiling, and seemed to be in the middle of saying something to her. She nodded to his words, pensive and focused.

Severus knew it was wrong, what he was doing. He knew he would be dead, if not worse, if he was caught. It had been a while since he last tried to catch a glimpse of her, and he just, well…Dumbledore said he needed to believe in something.

She was something, wasn't she? Yes, she was certainly something.

He took one long, final look at her, holding his breath, hoping for a smile to pass her lips. She did smile—she laughed, actually—and he pretended to laugh with her as he disapparated away.

He could try to guess how Dumbledore knew it was him who had broken through the protection charms around the Potter's house, but Severus almost didn't want to know. He was having enough trouble hiding his shame as it was.

Dumbledore sat in an armchair in Severus' parlor, sipping the tea that Severus had begrudgingly prepared for him. Severus sat in the loveseat perpendicular to him, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. He rarely ever sat in this room unless bound by social necessity and mostly spent his days making trips from his bedroom to the kitchen and back again. That is, when he wasn't avoiding being in this stupid house altogether.

His parents had given the house to him when they fled to Romania to get away from the war. It was his mother's insistence—neither he nor his father wanted him to have it. But his mother always had blind faith in him, the naïve twat, though she hardly ever stood up for him. The house, though, that was one thing she wouldn't budge on. Meanwhile his muggle father never loved Severus, if he could even fathom having a single kind emotion toward him at all. "Why should we leave him this house when he hardly deserves it," he had said.

Severus let the place decay soon after it was formally his. Just like his contact with his parents. It was a horrible place full of horrible memories. And only filling up with more.

"Can I trust you, Severus?" Dumbledore said finally, setting his teacup down on the coffee table and crossing his legs.

"Don't you think it's a bit late to be asking that question?" Severus sneered.

"Never too late," Dumbledore replied. "In fact, I ask it often, and over again, to the many people in whom I put my faith."

Severus had no response, and simply looked dully back at Dumbledore. There was an evening light streaming in through the window and reflecting off of his glasses in a way that made his eyes look like two solid white moons.

"Why were you at James and Lily's house on Friday night?"

He shrugged. "Curiosity."

Two blue eyes peered at him over their glinting spectacles. "Curiosity," Dumbledore repeated.

This was a mockery. Severus curled his lip and ran a hand through his greasy hair. "Oh, don't make me fucking say it, you tosser. You know full-well why I was there and you've known since I was a goddamn first-year at Hogwarts running around in circles over her—"

"All right, Severus. Yes, I know. And I have known."

Severus sat back in his seat, breathing heavily and feeling a familiar rush of heat creeping over his face. Mortified.

"He's planning to kill them," Severus blurted.

"I know."

"You have to save her. Protect her."

"I will," Dumbledore said. He stared long at Severus before carefully adding, "Would you like to help?"

"Yes," he breathed. "Yes."


	4. They Were Our Friends Once

**FOUR**

Severus managed to get a few weeks of uninterrupted and beautifully uneventful peace, before Peter Pettigrew showed up at his door. He was tapping quickly on the door, looking over his shoulder every few seconds. Severus watched him through the window as he approached the door and felt increasingly annoyed with every step. He opened the door a crack.

"What—"

"Ah!" Peter pushed his way in, absent-mindedly looking around at all the stuffy furnishings of the foyer until his eyes came to an abrupt halt on Severus. A smirk ventured to peek out of the corner of his mouth. "Hey Snivvely."

Severus wanted to say something, demand why he was here, but instead all he could do was curl his lip in disgust. Peter simply stared back at him, as though he were trying to be dominant but had forgotten his lines. His little hint of a smile began to falter slightly. Finally, Severus figured he'd throw him a bone. "Do you need something?" he snarled.

Peter jumped slightly. "Well—yeah, I was just…you know, the baby—Harry—was born and the Order is going to…" He seemed to be trying to bury his words into the floor. Being a Death Eater had made Peter Pettigrew more submissive than ever. "Actually, no. I—no. No. Sorry. I should leave. Sorry." Peter whirled around and reached for the door handle but Severus lunged and slammed the door closed before Peter could get it wider than an inch.

"What happened?" Severus demanded.

His eyes were wide, and Severus reveled in how Peter cowered beneath him. "Nothing! Nothing happened. It's just—they talked about casting a Fidelius charm, and…me being the…you know, and sometimes I'm not sure—well, I thought you might understand—with Lily—"

"What about Lily?" Severus snapped.

He got quiet. "They were our friends once."

Severus felt a tight knot in his stomach. He understood now, what Peter was getting at. He stared at the small man, who had cast his eyes to the floor the moment he stared talking and hadn't raised them once.

Suddenly his anxiousness was back full-force, and Peter gasped, "Not that I'm not loyal, I would never—Please don't tell the Dark Lord. Please, I was only—"

"Lily is nothing to me," Severus spat. "I suggest that in the future you keep your vile feelings toward the enemy to yourself. Now get out."

Peter did not need to be asked twice. He fled through the door before it was quite wide enough for his round body, causing the door to bounce off of him and ricochet against the wall. The mirrors and paintings that decorated the foyer vibrated precariously. His grandfather, in one portrait, clung to his armchair for balance and scowled at Severus until it stopped. Severus scowled right back as he closed the door.

"Not my fault," he muttered as he stalked into his bedroom. Against one wall was a small wooden desk and straight-backed chair. Severus flung himself into the chair and let his head fall into his hands. He sat there a moment, and then abruptly stood back up and began pacing the room.

He wasn't one to pace, but he was so agitated that it seemed like the only logical thing to do. Severus had known Peter was a rat for a long time now, and never felt it was in his best interests to tell Dumbledore. But Peter was going to be the Potter's Secret Keeper. Telling Dumbledore now could ensure Lily's safety.

And yet, Severus was still a Death Eater, and bound to the Dark Lord. He hadn't come to that decision lightly. Twenty years of loneliness and abuse would turn any man against his peers, and Severus now had enough vitriol boiling up inside of him to burn down everything he touched. The Order, Dumbledore, the Potters—they were getting what they deserved. They were the outcasts, the sullied blood, the traitors. Severus's alliance was placed was on the better side of this war. He knew that.

But if he could redeem one person, it would be Lily. And for Lily's sake, he paced.

Telling Dumbledore would stop the Order from trusting Peter, but word would get back to the Dark Lord. Even if Peter wasn't publicly exposed, the Dark Lord would know that someone had betrayed him. In all likelihood, Peter had already groveled to the Dark Lord about the news—a change of heart from the Order now would be odd. And Severus was not interested in being on the receiving end of the Dark Lord's suspicion. Besides, there was a chance that the Dark Lord would still succeed in killing the Potters, even with a different Secret Keeper.

There were too many pieces that could go wrong, he decided. No, he would keep the information to himself. But with a small lurch in his stomach, he knew what he had to do instead. He stopped pacing.

He was going to have to beg the Dark Lord to spare Lily.


End file.
